


objects in mirror are closer than they appear

by anotherthief



Series: the unremarkable crane-doyle house [1]
Category: Frasier (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Post-Season/Series 09
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-10-14 23:20:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20608991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anotherthief/pseuds/anotherthief
Summary: Roz and Frasier get sloshed at the station’s Christmas party and lose all their good sense.That’s the only way Roz knows how to explain it.





	objects in mirror are closer than they appear

**Author's Note:**

> I am not quite sure how it happened, but it would appear that I can almost no longer write without requiring a lot of dates. Your patience and understanding is much appreciated.

**December 2002: Christmas Party**

Roz and Frasier get sloshed at the station’s Christmas party and lose all their good sense.

That’s the only way Roz knows how to explain it.

It’s been more than six months since they slept together. They have finally _finally_ gotten back to being best friends, just best friends, but then… they get complacent, or maybe it’s just the alcohol or that they’re both going through a bit of a dry spell. But in any event, they’re leaving the bar and Roz stumbles a little, her heel catching on a hole in the carpet. Frasier catches her, and as she steadies herself, Roz realizes they’re under the mistletoe in the hallway. She has to laugh. Bulldog has been trying to shepherd her this way all night and here Frasier and she are under it by accident. He chuckles and says, “Well, I guess it is tradition.” He leans down and presses his lips to hers for one just too long moment. When he breaks away, she knows this is probably a bad idea but there’s a hint of something behind his eyes and she pulls his mouth back to hers. This time mouths open.

This is how they wind up against the wall of a dingy bar hallway, clutching at anything they can get their hands on. When they come up for air, he whispers, “Your place?”

Daphne and Niles have Alice for the night, so she nods.

-

Roz’s mind is starting to clear by the time the cab drops them off, but she still can’t keep her hands off of Frasier. They barely make it inside before he has her pressed against her front door, his enthusiasm matching her own.

They make it as far as the couch before her underwear is off, dress bunched up around her waist, and he’s pressing inside of her. It’s quick and messy and so, so satisfying even though she’s never going to be able to wear this dress again.

-

When they wake up in the morning, they’re both naked in her bed having moved from the couch to the bedroom for rounds two and three.

Roz’s head aches a little, but not as much as she would have predicted. Frasier is sheepish as he collects his clothes from the floor. They don’t talk much, but she can tell he’s feeling as foolish as she is. If they don’t discuss it, though, maybe it’s almost like it didn’t happen, not really.

Sunlight streaks in through the window panes around her front door. They stand awkwardly waiting for the cab Frasier called to take him back to the bar to get his car. He offers to return and take her to hers, but she waves him off. Roz and Daphne have plans to take Alice to see Santa at the mall this afternoon anyways. Daphne can just pick her up and take her to get her car afterwards. “It’ll just be easier,” she says, offering him a slight smile. Frasier looks like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t argue.

When the cab honks, they startle, having lapsed into staring at each other. If Roz didn’t know any better… but no, he wasn’t about to kiss her, was he? She definitely wasn’t thinking about kissing him.

Before she has the door closed behind him, Frasier looks back over his shoulder and offers her one last sheepish smile.

Roz closes the door and flips the deadbolt into place out of habit more than any actual concern for her safety at 8 o’clock on a Saturday morning. She tells herself they’ll be fine. It’s not like they haven’t slept together before. (But this is twice now in less than a year, the more rational part of her nags.) She shakes her head. It doesn’t mean anything. It was just sex. That’s it.

\-----

**March 2003: A Test and A Promise**

Roz starts feeling rundown early February. She chalks it up to being single for yet another Valentine’s Day or the flu going around the office. Either way, she doesn’t think much of it. By March, she should have rebounded, but it’s Seattle. Doesn’t everyone get a little down and tired by this point in the rainy season? If she’s put on a little weight, it’s just because she’s been spending a lot of time on the couch and taking part in a few too many comfort carbs.

It doesn’t even occur to Roz that there might be another explanation until she accidentally winds up on the tampon aisle at the grocery store. She’s trying to maneuver an unruly cart around a throng of people in the main aisle-way and darts down a side one thinking she’ll just go along the back wall instead. The sight of the blue and pink boxes on the shelves remind her she should probably pick up a box of regulars. She’s been meaning to replace her stock since she ran out before… wait, when had she run out? Roz worries her bottom lip while she thinks back. When it dawns on her, she doesn’t grab a box of tampons. Instead, she moves down the aisle and around the corner.

Roz is 41 years old, but as she plucks a pregnancy test box off the shelf, she might as well be a teenager again. Embarrassment settles over her, making her hand shake ever so slightly.

The next morning when she takes the test, she really doesn’t need to look at the readout to know the result.

-

“Frasier—oh, god.”

“What?”

“I’m pregnant.”

Roz blurts the words out. It’s the only way she can get them out. It’s not like it’s going to be any less of a shock if she eases him into it.

They’re sitting on her couch. It’s the first time Frasier has been to her house since… well, since. She’d invited him over for dinner, needing to have this conversation without an audience. He’d kind of looked at her when she’d asked after their shift at the station, but she shook her head. “I just need to talk to you about something. Will you come?”

He’d nodded, slowly. “Okay.”

Now dinner is over and Alice is tucked in bed. He brought a bottle of wine, out of politeness, but when she declines, she’s tired (it’s not even a lie), he suggests they put it away for a rainy day.

Now they’re here, and she’s waiting for his reply.

Frasier’s brows knit together. “Oh.” His surprise is evident. Then his eyes widen and she nods and shrugs and nods, tears forming in the corners of her eyes, answering the question he hasn’t asked. He reaches for her. Maybe it’s the hormones or that she hasn’t cried yet, but Roz lets Frasier fold her into his arms. “Okay,” he whispers into her hair. “Shh, it’s gonna be okay.”

When she stops crying, his arms stay wrapped around her. They’re basically lying on the couch, and conversations like this are sometimes best had not looking at each other anyways.

“So,” Frasier hedges, and when Roz doesn’t interrupt he continues, “that you’re telling me, does that mean you want to have it? I trust you know that you don’t need my permission if this isn’t what you want.”

“Yeah,” she says, her voice slightly raspy. She clears her throat. “Yes, I want to have the baby. I just… wasn’t expecting to be here, accidentally pregnant, alone, again.”

Frasier rubs her back. “You’re not alone.”

Roz can’t suppress an eye-roll. “Frasier.”

“I’m serious. This is coming as quite a shock to me, too. I accepted a long time ago that Frederick would likely be my only child, but I am willing to be as involved as you want me to be—wait, that’s a poor choice of words, not just willing.” He pauses, and she doesn’t need to be looking at him to know the expression on his face as he tries to find just the right phrasing. “I want to be involved, on your terms, of course. I know we’re not a couple, but you’re my best friend. That has to be a close second best.”

Roz mulls this over for a few moments. “You’re my best friend too, Frase, but… that doesn’t mean it’ll be easy.”

Frasier falls uncharacteristically quiet, and she can almost hear the gears in his head turning. Once he finds his voice again, his words feel very measured, deliberate. “I’ve missed a lot of Frederick’s growing up years. I think Lilith and I made the best choices we knew how to make at the time, but if I could go back… I would like to have been a more present parent for him. It is my greatest regret. Given a choice, now—” his voice falters, but she’s heard enough.

“Okay,” she concedes. “Okay, we’ll do it together. I don’t know how, but we’ll figure it out.”

They lie there together for the longest time, like they can delay everything that’s coming if they just don’t move off the couch. After a while, Frasier breaks the silence. “By the way, I like the new house. I didn’t really see much of it when I was here, uh, you know, before.”

Roz bursts out laughing and Frasier does, too. Laughter really is the only way they’ll get through this. She and Alice moved in right after Thanksgiving last year, which was apparently fortuitous timing because it turns out she’s going to need the space.

She feels a little better once she stops laughing, some of the tension broken. Frasier lets go of her and they sit up, ready to face each other once more.

His eyes travel to her midsection. There’s not really a bump yet, mostly she thinks she looks bloated. But slowly, as if waiting for her to object, Frasier moves a hand to rest on her stomach. She places hers on top of his almost like a reflex, but when their eyes meet, it feels like… like they’re making a promise.

Roz hopes they can keep it.

\-----

**April 2003: First Reactions**

“Okay, wait wait, hold on and let me see if I have this straight.” Niles points at Roz, “you’re pregnant,” then turns his finger to Frasier, “and you’re the father.”

Roz turns about eight shades of red, and bobs her head, her voice caught in her throat. Frasier isn’t faring much better, opening and closing his mouth, then choosing to remain silent.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”

Niles is reacting in, well, typical Niles fashion. Daphne and Martin appear stunned speechless.

“Yeah—no, not kidding.” Roz gestures vaguely to her waist and the now undeniable bump, the reason they decided it was time to let the cat out of the bag.

“I just thought you were getting fat. My god Roz, I knew you didn’t have standards but my brother? Frasier? Surely, you’re joking. How on earth could the two of you be carrying on without any of us knowing about it?”

Martin clears his throat. “Well, that’s not entirely true.”

Niles twists his head at the sound of Martin’s voice. “What? You knew about this?”

“I didn’t say that. But I knew they slept together last spring. I was told it was a one time thing though.” He gives his elder son a pointed look.

Frasier turns a deeper shade of red, if that’s even possible. “It was,” he sputters. “When I told you that, it _was_ a one time thing, but then well we sort of had another one time thing back before Christmas and… surprise?”

Roz starts laughing; there’s really nothing else to do. All heads turn towards her. “I’m sorry. I just. Hearing it all out loud.” She waves them off. “Carry on. It’s just my personal life being offered up for public scrutiny. Don’t mind me.”

Martin has the graciousness to look guilty and Niles (after a swift kick to the shins from Daphne) the good sense to shut up.

Daphne claps her hands together. “Well, I think this calls for a toast. A baby! How exciting.” As they all move toward the kitchen to find something to toast with, Daphne hangs back and takes Roz by the arm. “You have some serious explaining to do, missy,” she mutters so only Roz can hear.

Yeah, all considered, it could have been a bigger train wreck. So, there’s that.

\-----

**May 2003: Ain’t That A Kick**

They haven’t told anyone at work yet that he’s the father. Roz wants to avoid that until the baby’s here or she goes on maternity leave, whichever comes first. The gossip mill can run just fine when she’s not here to catch the stares in the hallway and stage whispers in the staff room. She’s getting them anyways, but it’ll be that times ten when they find out Frasier’s the father. Roz is a woman in what many still see as a “man’s” job, complete with all the double standards and innuendo that come with it.

But they’re at the station the first time she feels the baby move, and she can’t help it. She waves Frasier into her side of the box for their mid-show commercial break.

“Here,” Roz grabs his hand and places it just below her belly button. They only have to wait a second before there’s a little push, not as clearly a kick as it’ll be in a few weeks, but amazing nonetheless.

"Wow." His voice is breathy. Roz is feeling a little sappy herself, but it doesn't stop her from teasing him. "That extensive vocabulary you're so proud of and all you can say is 'wow'?" The corners of her mouth twitch, giving way to a grin that takes the bite out of her retort.

"When 'wow' is the most accurate descriptor, yes." Frasier says in his most pompous tone of voice. She wants to tell him he looks like a giant peacock ready to strut, but instead rolls her eyes and shoos him back to his side. A glance at her display tells her they have about 15 seconds left.

Roz wipes her eyes and pushes a few buttons, getting ready to transfer the next caller. Looking up to count him down, she catches Frasier staring at her, all wide eyed wonderment as he pulls on his headset. Heat rises in Roz's cheeks. When she feels the baby move again, she has to admit, _wow_ is right—not that she'll ever tell him that.

\-----

**September 2003: Labor Day**

Margaret Rose Crane Doyle is born on September 1, 2003.

It’s Labor Day, which everyone but Roz seems to find _endlessly_ funny. She threatens to murder Frasier before he can even think about making a joke. It fucking hurts, and if she thought she could get her knee up high enough, she’d nail him right in the balls. It’s his fucking fault she’s in this fucking mess.

No matter how much she curses or threatens his manhood, though, Frasier never leaves her side. When the nurse places their daughter on her chest, Frasier’s eyes are brimming with tears. “Look Roz, look what you did.” She’s crying and grinning and laughing, but she manages to argue with him anyways. “Look what we did, Frase. Look what _we_ did.” He’s beaming too much to argue back.

-

Roz wants to name her Tabitha. Frasier likes Henrietta. Somehow they eventually compromise on Margaret, planning to call her Maggie. Martin, however, takes one look at his granddaughter and declares, “She doesn’t look like a Maggie to me. I think she looks more like a Madge.”

Roz and Frasier share a look. Did they just get overruled on naming their own baby? But then Roz ponders, with parents named Roz and Frasier, maybe Maggie is a little too common. She looks down at the sleeping baby nestled into the crook of her arms. “Madge,” she says, trying it out. “I like that.” Frasier tilts his head as if studying the newborn. “Okay,” he concedes after a moment, “I can see it.”

Martin has a smug look on his face as he shuffles closer. He slips one of his fingers into the infant’s hand. “Welcome to the world, Madge, knowing your parents, it’s gonna be a heck of a trip.”

\-----

**October 2003: In the Time of Colic**

Madge has colic and Roz is going to lose her damn mind. Every time Frasier walks in her door after work, it’s all she can do to keep from bursting into tears on the spot. Hormones, colic, sleep deprivation—parenting is _not_ for the weak. She’s so grateful Frasier comes every evening to help. He always seems to walk in right when Roz is ready to lose the plot entirely.

In addition to or because of the colic, Madge wants to be held almost constantly, even if she’s not crying, and Alice has been extra clingy since her sister arrived. By day’s end Roz can’t stand to be touched. The conundrum is that Madge sleeps longer if she’s held, and Roz really _really_ needs to sleep longer than an hour at a time. The solution for the moment is that after Roz nurses Madge around 11, she hands the baby off to Frasier. He lies down in the recliner, baby on his chest, and they sleep that way until Madge wakes up to nurse again between 1 and 2.

They carry on this way for the first month. But, after the seventh or eighth time Frasier walks into a wall trying to bring the baby from the living room to Roz’s bedroom, she declares this is stupid, which is how all three of them wind up sleeping in her bed. The tiny sliver of sanity she has left says this is a bad idea. The rest of her is too fucking exhausted to care. This is what’s working right now.

\-----

**December 2003: Christmas Party, a Reprise**

Frasier leaves the Christmas party to relieve the sitter, but he insists Roz stay a little longer. “It’s fine. It’s your first night out. Enjoy yourself. Who knows,” he teases, leaning close to murmur in her ear, “you might get lucky.” Frasier’s already walking away from the table when Roz realizes what he’s said, or she’d have kicked him. That’s frankly the last thing on her mind right now. She started back to work a few weeks ago, and while the colic is easing off, Madge is still not a fan of sleeping. George Clooney could proposition her right now, and Roz would tell him to fuck off. Instead she rolls her eyes and smiles to herself before taking another sip of her beer. It’s only her second, but tonight’s the first time she’s had anything to drink in nearly a year. Pregnancy and nursing and all really are not what they’re cracked up to be.

“I don’t get it.”

Roz turns her head down the table. Bulldog is sitting on the other side, a few chairs down. He’s spent the last hour quietly drowning his holiday season sorrows, both real and imagined. She’d kind of forgotten he was there.

“Get what?”

“You and him, two—the two of you. You’ve got a baby, you acted like an old married couple even before the baby, hell I think you’re even living together, but you both say you’re not together.”

“We’re not.” Her cheeks grow warm, but she’s certain in this lighting no one at the table will notice.

Bulldog looks dumbfounded. “I don’t get it.”

-

Later that night, Roz’s eyes open at the sound of her elder daughter’s voice through the monitor. Yes, she still has a baby monitor in Alice’s room. (She’s at the other end of the hall, it’s a peace of mind thing mostly, and it comes in handy if Alice wakes up in the middle of the night feeling sick.)

“Frasier!”

Frasier rolls over, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He sees Roz has woken up. “I’ve got her.” He mumbles, softly pats Madge on the back once where mercifully she’s still sleeping soundly between them, then gets up.

Alice started waking up with nightmares not long after Madge was born. Frasier says it’s typical regression, her little mind trying to deal with such a big change, but Roz feels guilty anyways. She feels even guiltier when it’s Frasier who somehow winds up being the one to soothe Alice back to sleep. In those first newborn haze weeks, Alice would inevitably cry for her mom when Roz was already nursing Madge. Frasier would go instead. Pretty soon, Alice was calling for Frasier instead of her, which stings more than she cares to admit. But she can’t deny that he’s really good with her. Roz has no idea what he does or says, but usually after about 30 minutes, he reappears in her bedroom.

“Dragons slain. She’s out again.” Frasier whispers, when he sees that Roz is still awake. It’s a silly joke, Alice would never be afraid of dragons, but it always makes her smile a little.

Frasier never seemed natural in fatherhood to her, but maybe it’s because she’d never seen him that much with Freddy. He’s sweet, loving, and patient with Madge and it extends to Alice, too. Every time Roz thinks she has him figured out, he surprises her again.

\-----

**February 2004: Running the Numbers**

“Madge is sleeping between us. Really, what do you think is going on?” Roz plops down in a chair across from Daphne at Nervosa during the lunch rush. Daphne is forgoing caffeine during her pregnancy, but she’s a big fan of their smoothies, this week, anyways.

“I don’t know, but this is getting a little ridiculous. Martin says Frasier hasn’t slept at the apartment more than a handful of times since Madge was born. You know, five months ago.” Daphne gives Roz a look. “What is the point of this charade? Just be together!”

“But we’re not,” Roz insists, sighing exasperatedly. “We’re not together. Don’t look at me like that, I mean it. We’re not sleeping together—” Daphne cuts her eyes at Roz “—we’re not having sex,” Roz clarifies. “Hell, who has the energy. Madge slept five hours straight one night last week and it felt better than a week at the beach. Most nights she’s still up two or three times. Wait til you and Niles are dealing with night time feedings and teething. Trust me, it doesn’t leave much time for anything else.”

“Maybe not, but you’re still nursing, so what exactly is it that Frasier is doing?”

Roz thinks about Alice waking up with nightmares once or twice a week, about him walking Madge in circles around the living room at 3 am when their baby girl’s fighting going back to sleep, about them taking turns making coffee and changing over the laundry at 6 am. “More than you know,” she replies, thoughtfully.

Daphne throws up her hands. “See, that, that right there, you’re falling for him!”

Roz makes a face. “No, I’m not. I’m just appreciative of his hands on parenting.” She twists her coffee cup around on the table, suddenly very interested in how the barista wrote her name on the to-go cup.

When she glances up, Daphne has this all-knowing little smile on her face that makes Roz shift uncomfortably in her seat.

“Well, you should know there’s a pool going, and for me money, I’m giving it six more months, a year at the outset.”

“For what?” Roz’s eyebrows scrunch up, confused.

“Before you both admit you’re hopelessly in love with each other and give up all the smoke and mirrors.”

Roz buries her face in her hands.

-

When she comes in that night, a little late after production’s monthly meeting ran long, she finds Frasier and Alice at the kitchen table. Madge is in Frasier’s lap gumming an alphabet block.

Roz drops her keys and purse at the bar. She kisses the top of Alice’s head then takes Madge from Frasier, settling the five month old more next to her hip than on it, not quite a hip-baby yet.

Alice has a pencil and worksheet in front of her. More alphabet blocks are scattered on the table in front of Frasier.

“What are we working on?”

“Homework!” Alice supplies in that cheerful way only a five year old could.

Frasier grins. “Kindergarten math.”

“Oh, fun. Well, I’m going to nurse Madge and leave you to it then.”

Roz settles into the recliner with Madge. While the baby eats, she listens to Frasier and Alice as he talks her through simple addition using the blocks for a visual aid. After a while, her mind drifts to earlier with Daphne. It was… kind of strange to hear that their family is placing bets about them. Not the strangest thing that’s happened to her since she met this bunch but weird nonetheless.

Madge’s happy gurgles draw her attention back to their daughter. Roz runs her fingers through Madge’s fine dark honey colored hair, so much like Alice’s at this age, but instead of brown eyes staring back at her it’s Crane blue. Honestly, Madge’s existence probably ranks higher on the weird scale. The baby gurgles again as if she can hear Roz’s thoughts and wants to agree. Roz smiles. “Your relatives are silly. Sweet, I think, but misguided and very silly.” She shakes her head. “What do they know, anyways.”

\-----

**April 2004: Bathroom Shenanigans**

The only thing Roz doesn’t love about her house is the master bathroom. It’s long and narrow. She really has no idea how anyone thought it would be easy for two people to use at the same time. When she bought the house, though, she also didn’t imagine she would ever be living here with another adult. Now, however, she and Frasier are constantly bumping into each other getting ready in the morning or before bed at night.

Madge has actually gone down for the night early and in her crib after three nights of being up at all hours cutting a tooth. Roz took advantage and hopped in the shower. When she gets out with her towel wrapped around her, Frasier is finishing up brushing his teeth at the vanity. He wipes his mouth off and he leans up. Roz tries to slip behind him so she can get to the walk in closet at the other end of the bathroom. Frasier must have been lost in thought because about the time she’s behind him, he tries to turn around to put the hand towel back on the drying bar (it’s truly a strange set up, but moving things around always seems to fall low on the priority list) and they knock into each other in the process.

Roz curses under her breath. She tries to move one way and he tries to do the same. Somehow now she’s got her back to the vanity, but he’s still basically pressed up against her. They’re in the same predicament they were originally just reversed. Maybe it’s how tired she is, but she can’t help it, Roz starts laughing. After a beat, Frasier does, too. His hands ghost up her arms to rest at her shoulders and he presses a kiss into her forehead.

“At least we haven’t lost our sense of humor.” He smiles at her then and she’s smiling back at him. Then she’s not sure who moves first, but they’re kissing and he’s lifting her up onto the vanity, something rattles into the sink. Frasier’s hands are moving into her wet hair and hers find the edge of his shirt, sliding underneath to feel the warmth of his skin. Her towel is coming loose, but when the kiss deepens, she wraps her legs around him. She can feel his growing arousal through the fabric of his pajama bottoms. It shouldn’t surprise her and it doesn’t really. As far she knows neither of them has gotten laid since well, since… yeah. After a few minutes, she breaks the kiss. It’s a split second decision (but it’s also too easy because, truly, it’s not like they’re not already in over their heads). She whispers, “Bed.” Frasier edges sideways toward the doorway, holding her hand as she follows him, her towel falling the rest of the way to the floor in the process.

It’s a miracle she even has condoms in the nightstand, but thank god she does because much as she loves Madge, Roz is done with reproduction. As soon as Frasier rolls the condom on, they’re on each other again like a couple of kids. (It really has been _too long_—a woman has needs, dammit.) She helps guide him in, then hisses, “_Fuck_.”

Frasier laughs, twitching inside of her as he does so. “That is the general idea,” he half hums into her neck, but he stills, trying to let her adjust. She bites his shoulder a little harder than she normally would, half annoyed with him, but what else is new. Then she can feel herself relax around him and rolls her hips. “Okay. Move.”

Considering they’ve only done this twice and only once were they mostly sober, she’s surprised at how easily they find a rhythm. Maybe it’s just a testament to how fucking bad Roz needed to get laid, but god it feels _good_. When she comes, her heels are digging into Frasier’s back, and he’s pressed deep inside her. It only takes another minute until he’s coming with her name on his lips.

-

Afterward they’re still lying on the bed, her head on his shoulder.

“I can’t believe we just did that.” Roz half laughs, half groans. “That’s how we got into this mess in the first place.”

Frasier chuckles, “Yeah, well…” he trails off and just smiles at her. Yeah, yeah, she knows.

She runs her hand through her now half damp and extremely tangled hair and groans again.

“What?”

“Now I’ve gotta shower again. And if I wasn’t tired before—” she buries her face into his shoulder. She loves her daughters, but she would be fine skipping the baby phase.

Frasier presses a kiss into the top of her hair. “C’mon, I’ll help. I need to clean up, too, anyways.”

Roz raises up on her elbow then to get a good look at his face. “You’ll help or you’ll _help_.”

He rolls his eyes. “I resent the implication that I can’t control myself… recent evidence aside. Now come with me and we might actually get some sleep before Madge wakes up.” When he takes her by the hand, Roz lets him.

True to his word, Frasier does just what he said he’d do, nothing more, nothing less. He makes soapy patterns on her skin, hands never moving in a way that feels suggestive. They detangle her hair with a little conditioner and her shower comb. It’s… she would have thought this would be weird, especially considering they just had sex for the first time in more than a year. It’s not _not_ weird, but it also makes her feel… cared for, in a way that she could have never anticipated. He does a quick scrub down himself. They get out and he helps her dry off before leaving her to find them both clean pajamas. Roz uses the blow dryer long enough to keep her hair from going wild in the night. It’s not perfect, but it’s good enough considering it’s just going up in a ponytail in the morning anyways.

When they slip into bed, Frasier rolls to his side and pulls her to him, just holding her. Roz chooses not to question it, this, him, _them_—not tonight. She feels warm, clean, and content as she relaxes into his embrace and drifts off to sleep.

\-----

**May 2004: A Birthday and a Birth Day**

“Frasier, don’t take this the wrong way, but fuck you.”

He leans in close and faux whispers, “You already did, quite a few times, including last night.”

Roz elbows him in his side.

“OW,” he yelps, but the glint in his eyes tells her he’s playing it up for dramatic effect.

She has to bite her cheek to keep from laughing. He’s already too full of himself. It’s also the most either of them has actually said about the latest development in their… arrangement? For lack of a better term. Roz isn’t really sure what they’re doing, but she figures it mostly amounts to neither of them having time to troll the bars—or anywhere else for that matter.

Right now, they’re in the kitchen leaning up against the countertop, supposedly readying the cake. Mostly they’re hiding from the other moms here with their kids for Alice’s 6th birthday party. It’s not that Roz isn’t glad they’re here, or that they’re here with their kids at least, but… she hates the other moms. They’re all in their early 30s and just seem annoyingly young and fit. They make Roz feel fat and old for being 43 with a six year old and an eight month old. She’s just told Frasier as much, who had oh so helpfully responded, “Well, you are old.” What followed was really pretty predictable.

“What I meant,” he tries again once he’s done pretending to be injured, “was that, yes, you’re not 30, but that’s not a bad thing.”

Roz remains unconvinced.

“Think about all the fun you were having at 30. That’s what they’re missing out on. Sure, they’ve got a little more energy than we do, but it’s a trade off.” He shrugs. “Besides… all the things I thought I knew at 25, at 30, and was wrong about? Frankly, I’m glad I wasn’t having kids in my 20s.”

She contemplates this for a minute then elbows him again, but this time very lightly. “Alright. I guess I can see your point. I still don’t like them, though.”

Frasier wraps his arm around her shoulder and presses a kiss into her temple. “That’s my girl.”

It’s meant to be a tease, and Roz is certain of that, but something inside her tugs, just a little. Before she can examine whatever it is she’s feeling, Alice bursts in with her birthday crown on, superhero cape flying behind her, asking what’s taking so long. Frasier grins then picks up the tray to carry the cake out to the backyard. Alice grabs Roz’s hand and they follow behind him.

-

“You know, I thought Alice’s birthday party was a three ring circus, but today takes the cake.” Roz laughs, sitting down then flopping back onto the bed, too tired to want to change or take off her make-up. They’ve just gotten home from the whirlwind that was baby David’s birth and Martin and Ronee’s wedding, all at a vet clinic, no less.

“I don’t think it’s a day any of us will soon forget. Daphne and Niles will have quite the story to tell David one day.”

Roz rolls to her side to watch Frasier as he gets ready for bed, telling herself that she’ll get up when he vacates the bathroom.

“You do think they’ll be happy, don’t you?” She asks, after a minute.

Frasier pulls on a pajama shirt. “Daphne and Niles?”

“No. Ronee and your dad.”

He seems to contemplate for a minute before answering. “I hope so. I want him to be happy. I suppose in the end time will tell better than I can.”

“What about—” but before Roz can finish, Madge starts whimpering through the monitor. Moving her from the carseat to her crib was apparently a mistake.

“I’ll get her. You get changed.”

Frasier starts heading down the hallway. She’s not breastfeeding anymore, and Frasier is fully capable of warming up a bottle. She tells herself she’ll get up when she hears they’ve settled into the glider in Madge’s room. Once they do, though, Roz doesn’t move to sit up, instead listening to them. Frasier doesn’t really baby-talk, but all these years on the radio has given him a rather soothing tone. She closes her eyes. Questions about the apartment can wait.

\-----

**July 2004: The Boy Who Came To Visit**

At the start of July, Roz gets promoted to station manager. It’s a bittersweet end to her and Frasier’s partnership working on his show, but after a decade, she’s ready for a new challenge. Unfortunately, it also means she’s working late every night for the first few weeks as she gets up to speed on all the shows and developments the station has in progress.

This week, Freddy is here for a visit. This is the longest visit they’ll have had with him since Madge was born, so Frasier takes a week of vacation time. It makes Roz feel slightly less guilty. The girls may be seeing her a little less right now, but on the balance they’re getting more time with Frasier since he’s kept them home from daycare and day camp, respectively.

Frasier Crane minding three children for a week is truly something Roz never thought she would behold. To be fair, Freddy is 15, and therefore not really in need of minding. Freddy’s also really good with Alice. He shows up wearing black nail polish, much to Frasier’s chagrin. However, it seems less concerning and more like a useful skill when on the very first day of his visit Freddy helps Alice paint her nails electric blue while Frasier is dealing with Madge, who is having a nap strike fueled meltdown.

When they lie down that night, Frasier fills Roz in on all the details. He’s so worried about connecting with Freddy. “His visits always feel so rushed. There’s a sense of urgency, as if I have to fit in weeks or months worth of quality time into a few days. Between visits, there is the phone, of course, but trying to parent almost exclusively by phone feels clinical, even by my standards. I don’t know where that leaves us. It’s just… it’s so easy to be with the girls. But with Freddy, I always seem to be doing something wrong. It becomes apparent eventually, of course, but too late.” He sighs.

Roz brushes her thumb over his forearm. Madge goes down for bed in her crib more and more these days, even if over half of the time she still winds up in bed with them in the middle of the night. Progress, though.

“I don’t think you’re always doing something wrong.”

Frasier huffs, disbelieving.

“Well, not anymore than most parents of a teenager. The girls are little. I know every day feels like a marathon, but the things that make them happy are really pretty simple. Teenagers are trying to figure out who they are, who they want to be when they grow up. It’s hard. He knows you love him.”

“Does he though? I see him a few weeks out of the year and talk to him on the phone once, maybe twice a week. Is that really enough?”

Roz hmms at that. Her own issues as a child of divorce are different. She was an adult. Not that she has a sterling relationship with her dad either, but it’s hard to imagine how different it would be if he’d moved across the country when she was still in elementary school.

“Well, I’m not going to tell you that spending more time with Freddy would be a bad thing. He can certainly come visit here anytime. I want him to have a good relationship with his sister. But, I do think you are generally good at trying to make the most of the time you have with him. Whether it’s enough… you’re gonna have to talk to him, and about more than the color of his fingernails. I promise it’s bound to be the least interesting thing about your son.”

Frasier’s face is still full of worry, but there’s only so much Roz’s words can do to change that. Instead she moves to lay her head on his shoulder, throws an arm around him. “C’mon. We need sleep. Madge went down too early and too easily since she skipped her nap. She’s bound to start screaming at 2 am.”

She can feel Frasier chuckle softly before he draws her closer.

-

“Penny for your thoughts?”

“I’d like to think my thoughts are worth more than that.”

Roz takes a seat on the back porch stairs next to Freddy. Frasier is inside with Alice. It’s his night to read with her before she falls asleep.

“Hmm… how ‘bout a quarter?”

That earns her an eye-roll and maybe just a tiny hint of a smile. Oh, yes, teenagers, so many things to look forward to.

“You’ve been out here a while. I just wondered if everything was okay.”

Freddy keeps staring out into the backyard. He doesn’t say anything for the longest moment, so long that Roz is about to give up and go back inside, then he sighs.

“No offense, but why do you care?”

“Because I care about your dad and you’re Madge’s big brother. Because it seems like you’ve got something on your mind that maybe you don’t wanna tell your dad but maybe you do need to talk about.”

Freddy doesn’t reply, but he doesn’t roll his eyes or get up and leave, which Roz takes as a good sign. She decides to prod him again. “I answered your question. Think you could give mine a shot?”

Slowly the set of his shoulders slacks. “The girls’ bedtime is just kind of… chaotic.”

She snorts. “Fair. I’m of the opinion every day around here is pretty much a day at the circus, but bedtime can be a special kind of chaos, true.”

“You and Dad make it look easy.”

“It’s not, but we try.”

Freddy nods, almost imperceptibly. “Yeah, I can see that.”

Now they’re getting somewhere. “You know, I’m sure things around here can be a little much at times, but are you sure there’s not something else bothering you?”

“I guess… I don’t know. I just never thought of my dad as that kind of dad.”

Roz’s heart aches at his words. Freddy’s 15; he’s turning into a young adult. But he’s still just a kid, too. She nudges his shoe with her bare foot to get him to look up at her. “It didn’t happen overnight, and if you can keep a secret?” Freddy nods conspiratorially. “I wasn’t sure he could do it either. I was prepared to raise Madge on my own. But when I told him I was pregnant, he told me that he wanted to be there for her because he hated how much time he’d missed with you. I know this doesn’t make up for that, but for what it’s worth Madge owes her big brother a lot. I do, too.”

Freddy’s face is hard to read, but Roz thinks, maybe, that he heard her. She hopes that, maybe—in time—it helps. Roz puts her hands on her knees, thinking of standing, that it’s best to let Freddy have time to mull over everything on his own.

“Wait,” Freddy asks. “I answered another question, so that means I get to ask one more, right?”

Roz’s second question was really still part of the first, but he talked to her when he didn’t have to. “Sure, that sounds fair.”

“You love my dad a lot, don’t you?”

Roz isn’t sure exactly what Frasier has told his son about their living arrangement. “He’s my best friend.”

“That’s not an answer,” Freddy needles with a look that suggests he thinks he’s caught her and sounding annoyingly—and somewhat endearingly—like his father.

Roz sighs very dramatically. “Yes. More than he knows. More than he probably deserves.” She laughs and bumps her shoulder against Freddy’s. He smiles at her, not at his shoes. She’ll take it.

\-----

**September 2004: First Birthday**

There is something really special about first birthdays. Roz has been getting emotional for a week. Her baby is turning one year old, and she’s weepy, so sue her. Having done this once already, she already knows that the days are long but the years are short. Roz blinked and Alice was starting 3 year old preschool, and now she’s in first grade and probably already on the road to world domination.

They decided just to have a family party. It’s not like Madge is old enough to know if her little buddies from daycare come or not. Maybe it’s all the sweeter, too, for just being their little group. Roz wishes she could freeze frame this day and come back to it years down the line. She wants to remember how Madge claps when they sing her happy birthday, how she squeals when she digs her hands into her cake. She wants to remember Alice holding Madge’s hands and trying to help her walk while Niles, Martin, and Ronee sit on the couch wearing birthday hats and cheering them on. She wants to remember Daphne wearing baby David in a sling while he sleeps through the whole party. It’s a really good day capping off a long, sleepless, but wonderful year.

After everyone’s gone and Alice has been tucked in bed, Roz finds Frasier standing in the doorway of Madge’s nursery.

She comes up behind him and slips her arms around his waist. One of his hands finds one of hers, holding it at his chest, their fingers interlock.

“How do they grow so fast?”

Roz laughs softly into the material of his sweater. “You’re the one with a teenager, you tell me.”

He squeezes her hand. “All at once, then,” he says with the smallest of sighs. She steps around to his side then, tucking herself up under his arm. In the half-light of the hallway, they watch Madge sleep for a few minutes longer. Roz is the one who has to tug Frasier away. “She’ll still be little in the morning.” Her words earn her a sheepish grin. “C’mon, there’s a bottle of wine we’ve been saving for oh about a year and a half. Seems like the right night for it.” Maybe it’s the promise of wine or the mischievous glint in Roz’s eyes, but Frasier consents to be pulled down the hallway.

-

Something else happens in September, and Roz isn’t really sure what, if anything, to do about it.

Madge starts sleeping consistently through the night.

Roz is elated, of course, but she also starts feeling antsy. She finds herself waking up at 4 am in a panic, needing to check on the girls, to make sure they’re both fast asleep in their beds. Each and every time they are. It’s a relief. Alice hasn’t had a nightmare in months. They’re both thriving, happy, and healthy. Roz should be content, but she can’t shake this nagging feeling that something is wrong.

\-----

**November 2004: Thanksgiving With A Side of Self-Doubt**

Frasier comes up behind Roz in the kitchen and squeezes her shoulders. “Take a deep breath. She’s just your mother, not Mother Theresa.”

“She might as well be. Especially compared to me.” Roz scrubs harder at the platter for the Thanksgiving turkey, as if perfectly shined Thanksgiving dishes will make her seem like less of a disappointment to the former Attorney General for Wisconsin.

“One, that’s not true. Two, Joanna’s been nothing but sweet the past two days, and the three times she’s been here since Madge was born. I don’t think you’re giving her enough credit.”

Roz stops scrubbing and sighs. “I know. I just. I can’t help it. Every time she’s here, it’s like I can’t help but see my life through her eyes. Teenage shoplifter, college drop-out, two kids out of wedlock, need I go on?”

“You left out a long, respected career in radio not to mention your successful transition to station manager, two beautiful daughters who adore you, and a heart the size of Texas. You’re not a failure.” Frasier insists with another gentle squeeze to her shoulders.

Roz doesn’t really feel any better, but she appreciates that he’s trying. In any event, she stops scrubbing the already clean dishes.

-

The Saturday after Thanksgiving, Frasier takes Freddy and Alice to the skating rink. He and Freddy have been talking a bit more on the phone and emailing. Last night, Roz asked Frasier if he feels like he’s making up any ground. Frasier had shrugged. “I don’t know, but I feel like I’m getting to know him a little better. He wanted to come here for Thanksgiving. Surely that’s something?” He’d left it at that, too uncertain to say much more. Roz hopes he’s right, for both his and Freddy’s sake.

Madge goes down for her nap, and Roz finds herself alone with her mother for the first time since she picked her up from the airport on Tuesday.

“She’s down for the count… or well for about an hour and a half, probably.” Roz takes a seat on the opposite end of the couch, pulls a pillow into her lap.

“She’s a sweetheart.”

“Thank you.”

Then her mom gives her a knowing smile. “So, are you ready to talk about the elephant in the room, or shall we continue to pretend there’s nothing to say about you and Frasier?”

_“Mom,”_ she groans. There was a time Roz shared… too much with her mother, but things with Frasier are complicated enough without her mother chiming in.

“I’m just saying. I thought something was different when I was here in the summer, but now I’m sure of it. You’re sleeping together.” She raises her hand, to stop Roz before she can interject. “He’s been living with you over a year. I’m not so old fashioned to not be able to put two and two together. Plus, I’m your mother, I know when you’re trying to hide something. Maybe he was just staying here to help with Madge, but it’s changed, hasn’t it?”

Roz stays tight lipped. She is not confirming anything.

(She’s not denying anything.)

There’s really only so much to even say. They’ve been sleeping together for months, but pretending that he’s still staying here to help with Madge. It’s like if they talk about it out loud then the spell will be broken.

“Okay, I can see when I’m hitting a wall,” Joanna gives in. “But let me just say this. Be careful. Raising a family is hard enough. If the two of you aren’t really in whatever this is together, someone is almost destined to get hurt. I don’t want it to be you,” then with a thoughtful look, “or the girls.”

-

Roz doesn’t get much sleep that night. For once Madge can’t take the credit, not directly.

It’s so easy most of the time for her to pretend that there’s nothing to talk about. Yes, it’s not the most conventional setup, but they’re being good co-parents. Nothing to see here, move along, move along, etc. Except that’s not the whole story.

She’s fallen in love with Frasier.

She’s fallen in love with her best friend, with the father of her child, who has shown up day in and day out for her and her girls in a hundred big and small ways, with the person who has been there for her more than maybe anyone else in her life, since long before they had a child together.

Why is she so terrified to make it real?

\-----

**December 2004/January 2005: Year End Review**

“He’s free to flirt with whoever he likes. Honestly, Daphne, enough.” Roz takes a long sip from her drink. She’s on her third whiskey sour. They’re at Niles and Daphne’s New Year’s Eve party, so why not. It has nothing to do with Frasier looking extremely cozy with a pretty, single UW professor.

Roz is hurt and angry and mad at herself for being angry. She’s been pulling away since Thanksgiving, she knows that. She doesn’t know what they are to each other, co-parents and friends with benefits? Something more? Maybe? It’s too hard. Every day Frasier seems a little more restless, and every day she’s afraid this will be the day the bubble bursts. Roz could end this charade right now, let the chips fall where they may, but something stops her. She’s spent enough time with psychiatrists by now to know that avoiding making a decision is still a decision, but it doesn’t make it any easier for her to do something, anything. Frasier has clearly picked up on the tension, but he’s hardly doing anything to resolve it. If he loved her, he would, wouldn’t he? If he didn’t, he’d go, wouldn’t he? If her fatal flaw is a fear of commitment, Frasier’s is a penchant for committing too fast then running off at the first sign of trouble. Where does that leave them?

“Okay well then riddle me this, when was the last time you went out on a date? Even looked at another bloke? I know you Roz Doyle and you have not been suddenly struck celibate.”

“You just don’t wanna lose that bet.” Roz says with a short, hollow laugh.

Hurt and anger flash in her friend’s eyes. Daphne’s tone is even and her words clipped when she responds. “Firstly, I am your friend and I am concerned; I am not trying to win a bet. Secondly, every time I bring this up you sound like Cleopatra, which tells me I’m on the right track.”

Roz makes a face. “I am not the Queen of Denial. Oh, come off it, already. He still has his apartment! It’s just convenience. We’re co-parents, roommates. If Madge hadn’t had colic and been such a terrible sleeper, he’d never have even started staying with us. Hell, if we hadn’t gotten drunk and stupid—look, Frasier is hardly my first choice for a romantic partner. Please let this drop.”

“Fine,” Daphne snaps. “I’m going to check on David.” With a heel turn, she’s gone, and Roz is alone. Isn’t that always the case?

-

Roz checks on the girls then walks into the bedroom. Frasier is sitting on the edge of the bed, still in his party clothes but his tie pulled open, looking downcast. He was quiet the whole way home.

“I heard you, earlier, with Daphne.”

She sucks in a breath. Shame and embarrassment crashing over her. There’s not really any way around this now. She gets right to the point. “Are you in love with me?”

“I don’t know. I guess, everything just sort of happened. I don’t know if I love you… like that.”

There’s no malice in his words, but they’re still like daggers straight to her chest. “Then you don’t. C’mon Frasier, we’ve both been in love before. If you were in love with me, you’d know it by now.”

“Do you love me?”

“You’re my best friend. You’re Madge’s father. But I think… I think I thought—I don’t know. I don’t know what I thought.”

Roz sits on the other end of the bed, really just a matter of inches away but it might as well be an ocean between them. She can’t keep looking at him and keep her composure.

“I mean let’s face it. If I hadn’t gotten pregnant, we wouldn’t be here right now.” The words slice through her even as they cross her lips. “I am sorry you heard me talking to Daphne, though.”

“No,” he says with a sigh. “It’s better we do this now, before—you know, before one of us gets hurt. Madge is sleeping through the night. You don’t really need me here all the time. It’s probably best for me to go home.”

\-----

**February 2005: Broken Hearts, Empty Hands**

Roz has never been married, so she doesn’t know what it feels like to go through a divorce. But it can’t be much worse than what she’s going through right now.

She’d been mad and hurt and angry and maybe in the moment she wanted to hurt him, too, even though she regrets that he actually heard her. But he doesn’t love her, or he’s not _in_ love with her, and for such a tiny linguistic distinction, it drowns out everything else. It’s every other heartache she’s had compounded until she hardly knows which way is up anymore.

She misses Frasier the minute he’s gone. She misses him when Madge is screaming and when she’s giggling, when Alice shuts herself up in her room because Madge won’t stop messing up the doll house, and when they’re playing together so sweetly she could cry. She misses his stupid psychology books littering the house like either of them have time to read. She misses his clothes hanging up in the closet, his razor and shaving cream sitting on the vanity, and the way the smell of his aftershave would fill up the bathroom. She misses him every night when she lies down alone and every morning when she wakes up the same way.

Roz isn’t the only one who misses him. Madge asks for “Dada” every evening when they get home and doesn’t understand why he’s not there. Alice does her math worksheets at the kitchen table by herself, refusing her mother’s help because Frasier always helped her with them. At almost 7, Alice is frustrated with Roz’s vague explanations for why he moved out.

The girls miss their dad, plain and simple. And he is _their_ dad. Roz is more acutely aware than ever of how much Frasier stepped up not just for Madge but for Alice, too.

About six weeks after he moves out, Alice climbs in Roz’s bed in the middle of the night. The first nightmare she’s had in ages, but she won’t tell Roz what it was about or what Frasier does to help her fall back asleep. Her first baby just lays her head in Roz’s lap, and Roz runs her fingers through Alice’s hair until she cries herself back to sleep. Roz’s own tears track silently down her cheeks. Could they have made a bigger mess of things? She’s not sure how.

Roz and Frasier still cross paths at the station a couple times a week. He comes over on Wednesday nights to see the girls and takes them on Saturday mornings to the park or his apartment. If anything it makes it worse for her even though she’d never tell him to stop. Her heart is in her throat every time he walks out the front door, and it takes every ounce of self restraint she has not to ask him to stay.

Most mornings, she still reaches for him before she’s even opened her eyes, like her body has yet to accept he won’t be there. It breaks her heart all over again when she comes up empty.

\-----

**May 2005: Show Your Cards**

“You’re miserable.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I can see it all over your face, love.”

Roz sighs deeply and puts another plate in the dishwasher. Daphne came over for dinner on the pretext of giving Niles and David a “guys’ night,” but it’s feeling a lot like an ambush. Silently, she finishes loading the dishwasher, hoping that she can wait Daphne out long enough that her friend will let the matter drop. But when she turns around, Daphne is staring at her like she has all the time in the world.

Roz leans back against the counter top, crosses her arms. “It’s just been an adjustment, that’s all.”

“Bull.”

“He was never supposed to stay forever, Daph. It was always going to be like this. I’m fine, really, I’m fine.”

“So then it wouldn’t bother you at all to know Frasier has a date tomorrow night?”

It’s like a blow to her chest. She can actually feel all the wind getting knocked out of her. He’s getting on with his life. He’s doing exactly what they’re both supposed to be doing, but she never expected it to feel like this.

Daphne’s still sitting, watching, waiting. Roz’s mouth twitches, trying to form words to respond, but it’s useless. Her face crumples and she buries her head in her hands. Daphne’s up and wrapping her arms around Roz immediately.

“Shhh, shh,” her friend whispers. “Oh, Roz. You need to tell him.”

“I can’t,” she croaks. “This is what - I said - but he left. I can’t. I can’t.”

-

The sound of the front door opening and closing startles Roz out of a daze. She’s sitting on the couch, the TV on low. (The house is too quiet after the girls are in bed.) Before she has time to panic, she sees Frasier coming around the corner.

“Frasier, aren’t you supposed to be on a date right now. What are you doing here?”

He sits down on the other end of the couch, his elbows on his knees.

“How - how did you know about that?”

“Daphne maybe mentioned something yesterday.”

“Yeah. I - yeah, I was. But I could barely make it through appetizers before I made up some excuse and left.”

“Oh... and you came here,” Roz supplies, struggling to read his expression.

“I just—I kept thinking, I’m missing Madge’s bedtime and it’s getting warmer so I wondered if she was still wearing footie pajamas or if you’d put her in something cooler and how many more years will she even like wearing footie pajamas. Then I was thinking that it’s Tuesday and Alice will have a book from the library and I wondered if she picked something new this week or if she’s still getting that silly Muffin Mouse book every week. Meanwhile I’m at a restaurant I don’t even like and this woman is yammering on and on—I couldn’t begin to tell you what about—and, all I could think is what am I doing here? So I left.”

Frasier takes a deep breath before he continues. “Even more than missing the girls,” he scoots closer and reaches for her hands, bringing them up to his mouth so he can press a kiss across her knuckles, “I love you. I am _in_ love with you. I’m just sorry it took me so long to realize it. And maybe I’m not your first choice, but every morning for the last four months I have woken up alone and unable to feel anything but disappointment at your not being on the other side of the bed or singing off tune in the shower or getting your make-up all over the vanity. I miss this, us, everything. I want to come home. Wherever you and the girls are, that’s home to me. Not some overly curated high rise apartment. If there’s even a chance that you could feel the same way about me, I had to—“

Roz silences him with a kiss, fast and hard against his mouth.

“You had me when you walked in the door.”

-

Later that night, in the afterglow, they lay all their cards on the table. It’s a long talk and long overdue.

“You really thought I wasn’t in love with you? God, Frase, you are stupider than you look.”

“And you love me.” He says, teasing back, but also like he still can’t half believe it’s true.

“Yes, idiot. I love you.” Roz rolls her eyes, but she’s grinning.

“Good. Because I love you, Roz Doyle, more deeply than I could have ever thought possible.”

“Oh, really,” Roz murmurs, her hands on his face drawing him close. “Why don’t you tell me about that.”

He closes the distance.

When they break for air, Roz flashes a devilish grin. “I’m listening.”

\-----

**coda**

The pool was started in the hospital waiting room the night Roz delivered Madge.

Martin wins. He bet it would take two years, on account of how stubborn Roz is and how dense Frasier can be.

Daphne, using her psychic senses, covered the spread and put her money on a year to 18 months.

Niles, using a combination of highly detailed psychological profiles and complicated mathematics that no one understood, put his money on 8 months, 2 weeks, and 3 days.

Bulldog, who just happened to drop by when they were placing bets, put his name down for 6 weeks because he knows nothing about love—least of all that it takes time.

(Martin stuffs his winnings in Madge’s piggy bank college fund.

He reasons she’s the one who really earned it.)

**Author's Note:**

> At some point during the writing of this, it was suggested that I have, perhaps, watched a few too many Hallmark movies. But what can I say, sometimes I just need a happy ending. I hope you have enjoyed this one.
> 
> Many thanks to Liz for the beta, and the rest to Meg for the cheerleading. <3


End file.
